Joyce Bupp: Signs of winter, a quick look

But that's one of the more frequent laments we hear about winter, the lack of light. The long stretches of dreary, gray, dismal weather sure make us miss sunshine and brightness.

So, on a recent sunny morning, with relatively mild temperatures, the stack of waiting paperwork and breakfast dishes in the sink got ignored. Instead, Lily and I headed off to the meadow, for a quick look-see at what's happening. Leaves are long gone from all the trees and shrubs, allowing easy spotting of the numerous birds that live in the meadow and fencerows.

While local apple growers saw a plentiful harvest last fall, our few trees didn't fare so well. Spring frost zapped their blossoms, resulting in a mere handful of scruffy-looking mature apples. A few still linger, shriveled and ignored even by the wildlife, among the exposed apple tree skeletons.

But dotting numerous exposed branches, stems and vines are dried objects with much more promise. Praying-mantis egg cases are in abundance this winter, an optimistic sign of many of these insect predators to patrol the garden come summer.

Hundreds of tiny mantis hatchlings can emerge from a single, Styrofoam-textured egg case, as anyone can attest who's had a mantis case hatch out after accidentally bringing one inside on a Christmas tree.

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Abandoned birds' nests also show prominently among the exposed tree branches, always a fascinating mystery as to which feathered families were raised there. Many more nests hide in the thick tangle of bittersweet that curls among the fencerows.

Searching for birds, nests and whatever else of interest we might spy, I nearly step right into a unexpected stream, running out over a pond edge.

Taking a careful giant-step over the overflow and onto the wooden pier, I kneel and poke my head over the side to check the plastic-pipe drain to the next pond. It's totally plugged with a thick accumulation of grasses, stems and roots, residue from the feeding of geese and the muskrats that we know haunt the ponds.

I push up my sweatshirt sleeves, plunge my arm into the near-freezing water and start yanking on the soggy accumulation.

After a couple of good pulls, the excessive water held by the pond begins pouring through the pipe and into the next pond, a cascade which begins breaking up the ice on the shallow frog pond below.

It roars like the giant drain that it is, still flushing through minutes later when I head back toward the house. Lily finds the rushing water fascinating and goes slopping in to investigate, seemingly immune to the icy chill.

A detour around the garden on the way back to the house yields a happier surprise. The Brussels sprouts plants have finally developed small sprouts dotting their thick stalks.

While the sprouts are not large, the winter's cold should render them sweet and tender. I position a low hoop-tunnel form over the plants and fasten plastic over it. With a little sunshine and shelter from the worst cold, the sprouts should continue to grow and provide fresh veggies for a few future meals.

Later, I spy two dandelion blossoms glowing yellow on the roadbank beyond the barn.